


Compassion in Retirement

by dearxalchemist



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Birthday, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Morning Sex, Smut, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 07:18:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13049199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearxalchemist/pseuds/dearxalchemist
Summary: He thanks her with a chasing kiss. Following her words with his lips pressing along her own. Gaby breaks them apart after a few more quiet moments, her fingers are carding through his hair that he knows needs to be trimmed, it’s against KGB regulation to be this unruly, but he can’t seem to care. Not now while her nails are dancing along his scalp, lulling him into a serene sense of peace. She smiles across the pillow at him, warm and beautiful in the early morning light. He loves the unruly tangles of her hair and the look of her bangs matted across her forehead. Gaby’s brown doe eyes catch him and he smiles just as her fingers trace down the side of his face, calloused fingertip brushing along his bottom lip, “If you move her to her bed, I will start your breakfast.”





	Compassion in Retirement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildandbeautiful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildandbeautiful/gifts).



The first swatch of sunlight splashes over his face and Illya can feel the pull of the waking world. His golden brows knit together for just a moment as he attempts to hold what he can of sleep. A warm hand sneaks over his chest, fingers slowly walking up the defined muscles. They stroke softly over the fine bits of hair there before fanning out. Her palm lands directly over his heart where he feels the skip of a beat. The bed is warm and worn, with soft clean sheets wrapped around the two of them and the little invader that Gaby could not deny in the early hours of the morning as a thunderstorm wracked the roof of their cottage style home. 

“Good morning,” Illya’s voice is low and soft, accent thick so early in the morning. He doesn’t even open his eyes yet. He simply soaks in the sensation of Gaby’s hand on his chest. She simply drums her fingers along his chest before letting them slide up to his neck where they slide through the short hairs and hook around. In a soft tug, she pulls him across the pillow where his eyes barely open just enough to find her lips. They’re warm and dry against his own. Gaby kisses him just like this nearly every morning. It’s been this way since the heavy ring on her finger replaced the cheap decoy she held onto so many years. There’s a grave in Moscow with his tags hanging haphazardly along a tombstone and papers that claim the body inside is his own, signed by Waverly himself. Dismissal came a little over two years ago, the world slowly righted itself and they found themselves on the edge of a makeshift retirement. The age of spies was ending as wars slowly came to ends as peace treaties started a new world-wide trend. 

Their last mission was in Cairo, knee deep in an archeology smuggling ring when Gaby’s first wave of morning sickness struck her, nearly blowing their cover. What she waved off as a simple virus had turned in to three home tests later and a confirmation from the U.N.C.L.E. medical bay. Illya had almost lost his balance, knees going weak and insides turning to jelly. Afterwards they had both been pulled into a secure room and dismissal lines were drawn, a healthy retirement, a severed line from the KGB, they settled in Edinborough, new jobs, new backgrounds. Illya taking a job within the local university while Gaby found work in a garage until she could no longer slide fully beneath the well of an engine. Motherhood had been kind to her. Nine months of perilous worry from both of them turned into a joyous night with a sky full of stars. Gaby had given him the greatest gift, wrapped in pale pinks with a dusting of brown hair. 

That had been a little over a year ago. Now his greatest gift was wedged between the two of them. Her cold little feet planted on his thighs and her hand twined around his wife’s sleep shirt in a sleepy grip. Gaby is careful to move over their daughter as she catches him in another kiss, this one a little more awake than the previous one before she pulls back from him. Her whisper falls over his bottom lip, “Happy Birthday.”

He thanks her with a chasing kiss. Following her words with his lips pressing along her own. Gaby breaks them apart after a few more quiet moments, her fingers are carding through his hair that he knows needs to be trimmed, it’s against KGB regulation to be this unruly, but he can’t seem to care. Not now while her nails are dancing along his scalp, lulling him into a serene sense of peace. She smiles across the pillow at him, warm and beautiful in the early morning light. He loves the unruly tangles of her hair and the look of her bangs matted across her forehead. Gaby’s brown doe eyes catch him and he smiles just as her fingers trace down the side of his face, calloused fingertip brushing along his bottom lip, “If you move her to her bed, I will start your breakfast.” 

It’s a soft birthday compromise. Illya agrees only after pressing a kiss to the inside of her palm, holding her there just long enough to remember the feel of her as she slowly pulls away. The two of them are experts of untangling themselves from the darling Natalia, and with years of KGB training under his belt, Illya has become a master of relocating their sleeping daughter, giving them just another hour so or more of alone time. Gaby pads slowly from the bedroom, his shirt brushes her knees as she walks and Illya gets the chance to admire his wife while Natalia buries her head in the crook of his arm as he transports her from one room into her own. Natalia has just about outgrown her crib. Illya thinks in another month they will have to replace it with a bed meant for toddlers and he’s unsure of the change -- already wanting her to stay just like this against the bend in his elbow. With ease he slides her back into her own bed, pulling the edge of her quilt over her small form as she curls into the warmth of it. He pauses against the railing, hand dipping down once more, knuckles brushing her forehead. Natalia squirms for a moment, makes a face in her sleep, then slowly un-clenches her fists and relaxes. In this moment she looks just like her mother. Small and fierce. When her eyes open though and the temper comes to the surface, she resembles Illya in more ways than one. 

He leaves Natalia with the soft clicking of the door. Letting her sleep just a little while longer as the sound of running water echoes from the kitchen. Gaby already has the kettle out, coffee on, and a dozen eggs set aside as she readies the kitchen for breakfast. They both know she will end up letting him cook, but he lets her prepare the kitchen, lets her pick what they will eat, even if it is his birthday. 

“She didn’t cry this time,” Gaby smiles over her shoulder as she fills the kettle up in their deep sink. Illya leans in the doorway of the kitchen, hands folded across his chest as he admires her standing there in his sleep shirt and nothing much else. 

“Not this time. I am much better at moving her.” Illya is proud and Gaby scoffs, blowing out a soft sigh at his words.

“You are just quiet and she likes that,” She turns away from him and sets the kettle on the stove before slowly igniting the flame beneath it. Letting it catch before moving for the fridge once more. Only, Illya stops her mid-step. He moves into the kitchen with those quiet steps of his and wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her back into him. His hand fans out along her hip, rucks up her stolen shirt some and she hums, falling back into him. Gaby’s low ponytail is crushed between them as she tilts her head back, sweetly beckoning him on for another ‘Good Morning’ kiss. He answers her silent call, bending in just to kiss the corner of her mouth. 

“We have time,” He whispers against her skin, lips brushing over the curve of her cheek, “Before we must wake her.”

“What about your birthday breakfast?” Gaby’s voice is lower now, practically a growl as his hand smooths over the plane of her hip, fingers dipping low past the front of her to the apex of her thighs. Gaby presses back into him. They mold perfectly together, two pieces of an old puzzle long forgotten finally coming together. Gaby’s head falls back just below his shoulder where she turns just to kiss the bob in his throat. Illya’s gun-calloused hands dip under the elastic of her panties. Damp fabric brushes his knuckle and Illya smirks against the edge of her collarbone before letting a finger slip inside. 

“Already wet,” Illya’s voice slides over her skin and Gaby swallows a moan as he teases her. In no time he’s got her weak in the knees, pressing into him with shaking muscles. Her hands have gripped a hold of his forearm, nails making themselves at home in his wrist as a second finger joins the first. There’s small rivers of slick sliding down her thighs and just as he pushes her on the edge, he pulls back. The mechanic nearly screams before his free hand clamps down over her mouth to silence her. 

“Shh,” He taunts her softly, leaving her so carefully on the edge of an orgasm, “You’ll wake Natalia.” 

Gaby’s teeth sink into his palm. A reminder she is not easily won over, not easily contained. Illya scowls playfully before landing a soft swat to her bottom. Her teeth release him and he turns her now in his arms, lifting her high against his chest. Her legs wrap around his form as he lets his hands slide to the back of her thighs. She rocks against him in a slow motion, head leaning down and kissing him hard. With slow measured steps, Illya walks her back to the countertop where he breaks their kiss and leaves on on the ledge of the crafted countertop. Her legs fall from his chest only to move over his shoulders. Underwear is dragged down her toned legs where he lets it fall to the tile of the kitchen floor. 

“Illya,” Gaby pants softly, “Your birthday--” 

“Breakfast is already here,” He nips the inside of her thigh and then it’s all over. Her hands dig into his golden hair and he finds himself at home between her legs, tongue mapping out the shape of her. He is slow and meticulous. Illya leaves no part of his wife unexplored. Gaby’s writhing form knocks the sugar container off into the sink. The granules go everywhere but none of them seem to care as Gaby grabs handfuls of golden hair, thighs tightening around him. Illya’s tongue dips inside her warm folds and she’s done for. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and a shudder runs the length of her spine. He stays kneeled on the floor, between her legs, lapping up every bit of her he can, filling himself like a king on the taste of her, letting the aftershocks wrack her body. Slowly she pets his hair down, smooths away the damage she’s done to him as he kisses his way down her thighs, early-morning stubble scratching her legs in a delicious way. 

“See?” Illya gives her a wolfish-grin, blue eyes practically sparkling. If she knew any better he’d been talking to Solo again on the telephone. The two of them gossiping like girls during the secure calls they let themselves have once a month. 

“Come here, birthday boy.” His wife smiles, cheeks flushed and warm as she crooks a finger to him. He comes when she calls, stands at his full height with her cunt soaking the front of his pajama pants. Gaby pulls him into a kiss to taste herself on his lips as her fingers find the edges of his ties. They make quick work of his drawstrings, lowering his pants just enough to free his hard cock. Illya’s arms circle around her middle and he pulls her into his chest where she lines them up. The head of his cock teasing her, slipping inside with ease. He groans, never getting used to the feel of coming home between her legs. Gaby shudders against him, forehead pressing over his as her mouth parts over his own, inviting him in for a messy kiss. Illya thrusts against her and she moans into his mouth, lets his lips catch her cries as her heels dig into the small of his back, hands gripping against his shoulders. He doesn’t slow his pace. They’re pressed for time and they both know it’s only a matter of minutes before Natalia cries for her parents. 

Gaby’s hands take the path down his back where she grips at his ass, pushing his pants down the rest of the way to bunch at his knees. Her fingers dig into the muscles there, urging him on. Urging him faster, harder, deeper, her breaths coming out in short ragged bursts. A soft declaration of love spills from her and lands on him. 

Illya stutters, lost in the feel of her, heart pounding against the cage of his ribs, his words lost as he tries to catch up to her, “I-..” It runs out of him in Russian just before she holds him to her. His head falls into her chest, mouthing over the opening of her stolen shirt. Goose flesh erupts against her skin under his attention. Gaby’s breath catches and he moans as she tightens around him.   
The tea kettle whistles loud, steam exploding into kitchen and Gaby can’t seem to care as she hauls him in closer, squeezing them together as his hips jerk against hers and he spills into her like a school boy, unable to contain himself. Like a true mother, Gaby multitasks, snatching a rag off of the countertop and pulling the kettle off of the stove to set on a cold-eye of the appliance. Illya is still gasping for air against her, closing his eyes and slumping against her as the kettle dies down. 

“Happy Birthday Liebling,” Gaby kisses his sweat-slicked forehead. He smiles against his wife, enjoying the feel of her still wrapped around him like a vine.His eyes are still closed and he can only think of the first time he saw her in that car, driving like a mad-woman, driving like her life depended on it, like their future depended on it. His fingers find her hips where he soothes her with soft circling motions as he slowly pulls himself free of her, leaving behind a sticky mess. The two of them begin to detangle just as the crying starts.

“Go for her, I will take care of breakfast.” He murmurs softly against her as he pulls his pants back up his hips, drawing her off of the countertop and setting her down. Gaby snatches her panties off of the kitchen floor and wave them at him in a chastising manner.

“Alright but if you burn my toast again…” 

“You will never let me live that down will you?” He huffs playfully and she slips them back up her legs and makes a show of smoothing her stolen shirt down in a modest manner, buttoning it up to the neck before padding off. 

Illya turns back to the counter, spying the mess of sugar and cooling kettle before he blows out a soft laugh, enjoying the turn of the morning. He doesn’t linger long though, as the sound of Gaby soothing their daughter reaches his ears. He puts himself to work and begins the breaking of eggs.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas WildandBeautiful! I sincerely hope you've enjoyed your prompt and thank you for giving me happy domestic fluffs to write. I hope your holidays are filled with happiness and bright shining laughter!


End file.
